by R. J. Kaiser
“It won’t happen.”
“How can I be sure? I mean, if I’m going to get screwed over, anyway, why pay anything at all? Five million will buy a lot of lawyers.”
“Look, I’m not here to bargain with you,” she said.
“Your silence is only worth so much to me. Beyond that, I’ll take my chances with the police. Let’s say a million, but I’ll need to know exactly how you got the information. That’s a condition.”
“You’re fucking with me,” she said angrily. Snap went her gum. “I told you not to do that.”
“A deal will work only if both parties are reasonable. A million will save me a lot of trouble. Paying you more than that starts being a bigger pain than jail time.”
“What about your wife and kid, McGowan? What kind of an asshole are you, anyway?”
There was something about the way she said it that gave him pause. There was angst in her voice. Was she concerned about Stella and Troy or just using that against him? If she was concerned, the question was why.
“A million is a lot for doing nothing but keeping your mouth shut,” he said. From the corner of his eye he could see her fidget. He’d been in enough negotiations to know she was trying to decide if it was time to come down, or if she should still hang tough.
Snap, snap, snap. “Okay,” she said after several moments. “Three million, but it’s got to be in cash and I’ll need to take delivery by the end of the week.”
“Impossible.”
“That’s as far down as I’ll go.”
“Look, I’ll pay two million. Period. But it’s not going to be in cash. You’d need a moving truck. Besides, I can’t raise that much cash without arousing suspicion. You need a numbered offshore account and I’ll need a week to get the money together.”
She was silent, the chewing and snapping having stopped. Mac knew he had her.
“Get your account set up and have instructions ready for me a week from today,” he said. “But I’ll need to know the source of your information. Provide those two things and you become an instant millionaire. Where do you want to meet next week?”
She remained silent. Mac restrained himself from smiling. The figure beside him shifted uneasily. Jade was right. The mystery woman was an amateur, but she was an amateur with damning information.
“I’ll call and let you know where,” she said, the confidence in her voice gone. “But you better be getting the money lined up.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going now,” she said. “My associate is watching us. If he sees you turn your head, the deal’s off. So stay right where you are for five minutes. Understand?”
“I understand.”
Snap, snap went her gum. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
The brimmed hat flicked away, out of his peripheral vision. Mac did not turn his head and watch her go. He played the game her way, though he did not wait five minutes. After a couple, he picked up his jacket, put it on. Then he left the observation deck and went down to the cafeteria to buy himself a sandwich and a beer.
Jade had trouble keeping up with her. The mystery woman with the bouncing red curls under the wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses was moving smartly. If Jade were to jog along behind her, she’d be easily spotted by an accomplice.
Once they were outside the main building and in the open plaza, Jade angled off to the side rather than follow directly behind her. She kept Red in sight, but otherwise put as much distance between them as she safely could. It appeared the woman was headed back to the tram, which meant Jade could afford to lag. The only risk was Red would hop on a train just before it departed. Jade lucked out, though. A sizable crowd was waiting for the tram to take them down the hill to the parking garage. She spotted the woman waiting impatiently on the platform, checking her watch. When the tram pulled in, Jade got in the car behind the one Red boarded.
If she had a concern, it was that she’d lose her mark in the labyrinth of the parking garage. She wouldn’t likely be able to follow the woman to her car, then run to get her own without losing her in the process. And so, knowing that, when she arrived at eleven-fifteen, Jade had flashed her investigator’s ID and got permission from the supervisor to park in one of the official slots by the exit. That way she could pick up the woman as she came out of the garage. The question now was whether her mark would come out with short blond hair and hatless, rather than the way she’d gone in.
But Red threw Jade a curve. When the tram arrived, instead of heading for the garage, the woman made her way toward the pedestrian entrance. Outside the gate was where visitors could catch a taxi or board a bus. Of course! That was why the mystery woman didn’t have to worry about a parking reservation as she and Mac had—she’d come via public transportation.
Jade realized she was in a pickle. She couldn’t get her car without losing track of Red, and if she followed her to see which taxi or bus she took, she wouldn’t have her car. But she couldn’t risk not knowing which way Red was headed, so she followed her to the bus stop. A MTA bus pulled up just as Red got to the stop. She and half a dozen other passengers got on. Jade checked. It was a 561, northbound.
Having confirmed the line and direction the bus was headed, she dashed back to her car. On the way out of the garage, she asked the attendant the next stop of the northbound 561 after it left the Getty. The woman shrugged. “I don’t know.” Jade could have killed her. She couldn’t blame her, but she could’ve killed her.
The bus was gone by the time she got there, but a southbound bus was just coming up to the stop. Pulling over, Jade jumped out of her car and ran to the bus. The driver was a little skinny guy, old enough to be her father, with a smile about as wide as the bus.
“What’s the next northbound stop?” she asked breathlessly.
“Sherman Oaks, sugar pie.”
“Where in Sherman Oaks?”
“Van Nuys and Moorpark.”
“Via the freeway?”
“Yep. Exit Ventura.”
Jade beamed. “Thanks!”
“Wish I was goin’ north, sugar pie.”
“Next time.” She returned to her car.
In two minutes she was on the San Diego Freeway, headed north toward the valley. The climb up over the mountain was a long one, and she wondered if maybe she could catch up with the bus on the grade. As luck would have it, she did catch up with a 561 near the top of the pass. Now, if she had the right bus and Red hadn’t slipped off while she wasn’t looking, she’d be okay.
The bus exited the freeway and Jade followed it to Van Nuys Boulevard. But Red didn’t get off. Jade was concerned. Was the mystery woman still on the bus? The bus headed north on Van Nuys with Jade in pursuit. The next stop was Victory Boulevard.
Much to Jade’s relief Red came bouncing down the steps, hatless, her red curls blowing in the wind. As Jade waited, Red walked east on Victory, stopping at a parked car when she was nearly out of sight. She got in the vehicle then drove west with Jade following. At a light Jade pulled up behind her and made a note of the license number. They proceeded west, passing under the freeway. A mile or so later Red turned, pulling into an apartment complex just off Victory. Jade left her car in the street and walked into the complex. Red had left her car in a visitor’s spot next to the building nearest the street. The woman knocked on the door of a ground-floor unit. Jade now had an address for her mark. It might not be Red’s place, but it was an address from which she could be traced.
Jade went back to her car. She decided to hang around a while and see what developed. She was able to see the door of the apartment where Red had gone, so she could monitor things from the comfort of her vehicle. With time to kill, she gave Ruthie a call.
“Hey, it’s you, girl,” Ruthie said. “Damn, if you aren’t still alive. I’ve been checking with the morgue every hour or so.”
“Alive and well.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this morning that you were in a shootout at the OK Corral?”
“It wasn’t that big a deal.”
“How many times have you done that before, even when you were wearing a badge?”
“Well…”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll tell you all about it later, but I’m chasing a bad guy at the moment and need a favor. Will you run a plate for me?”
“Sure. Don’t matter if it’s against regulations.”
“I knew you’d be perfectly reasonable.” Jade gave her the license-plate number.
“I’m expecting a nice dinner for this, by the way. And none of that tofu shit, either. Steak.”
“No problem. It’ll go on my expense account.”
Ruthie laughed. “You’re liking this millionaire business, aren’t you?”
“So far so good.”
“You’re bad, girl. Call me back in fifteen minutes.”
Jade waited, wishing she’d taken the time to go to the bathroom at the Getty before Red had shown up. Harry Naismith had once told her that the key to a successful surveillance was planning ahead. God, was he ever right.
Ten minutes later Jade phoned Ruthie back.
“Ginger Lane,” Ruthie said. “She’s got a Studio City address. You want it?”
“Please.” Jade jotted down the address. “You’re a doll.”
“A doll who eats like a horse.”
“Later.”
Red—whose name Jade now knew to be Ginger—must be visiting someone. A coconspirator, perhaps? Or was the vehicle borrowed or stolen?
If she managed to identify Red and her accomplices, wouldn’t that be a coup? Mac would be impressed—even if it turned out to be a gang who couldn’t shoot straight. Stupidity, after all, could be very dangerous.
Pacific Palisades
Venita swam naked in the pool as she waited for Troy, who’d had a phone call and had gone off to the house, leaving her feeling alone and vulnerable. She still hadn’t had a visit from the police, nor had she heard from Percy Gaylord. Arjay had been a bit more aloof and, she judged, somehow wary. Knowing that Percy Gaylord was after her scalp, he may have decided her days were numbered and he would be advised to search for other, less precarious endeavors.
Even Jugnu, the one steady, unfailing rock in her life, had showed signs of independence and defiance. The previous night, for the first time in all the years he’d been in her service, Jugnu had refused to pleasure her. She’d taken a strap and hit him three or four times for defying her, but he’d still refused to accommodate her, stoically taking his beating without flinching even once. Venita had been so shocked, she hadn’t known what to do. Finally, she’d sent him to his room, then, distraught, fell weeping on her bed. Her entire world seemed to be conspiring against her.
Troy, though full of himself, was the one exception. He seemed so certain he would have a large sum of money soon and that together they would conquer Hollywood. He had grown more brazen, more sexually demanding, but at least he seemed to want her, still treating her like a queen, a star. Thank God she had that—if little else—to cling to.
Just then Troy came out of the house and made his way to the pool. Removing the terry robe he’d worn inside, he tossed it on a chair and dived into the water, not surfacing until he was in front of her. He took her by the shoulders and kissed her. Venita responded by twisting her body back and forth, rubbing her breasts against his chest.
He slipped his hand down between her legs. “Miss me?”
“I did indeed.”
He grinned, then lay back in the water, floating. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll have two million dollars minimum in an offshore account next week. A million and a half of it will be available for On Distant Shores, maybe more.”
Venita moved over next to his head. “Is that true?”
He regarded her from the corner of his eye. “Would I shit you?”
“How do you do it?”
“That’s my thing,” he said. “Yours is to get the movie made. I did hear something really freaky, though. Mac was involved in some sort of gun battle last night. It was in the morning paper.”
“Truly?”
Troy stood, smoothing his wet hair back off his face. “Yeah. Happened in West Hollywood. Just think, if he’d gotten killed, we’d be talking about a whole lot more than a couple of mil.”
“Yes, but we mustn’t wish ill on your father.”
Troy smiled sardonically. “Why not?”
Venita reached under the water, taking his member in her hand. “You’re becoming quite the man, aren’t you, my love?”
“Man enough.”
“You’ve convinced me.”
“Have I?”
“But of course,” she said, caressing his balls.
“Would you be pissed if I called your bluff, Venita?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“How about we go to Vegas and get married?”
“When?”
“Now,” he said.
“This instant?”
“Tonight, tomorrow, whatever.”
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I’m curious if you’ve got enough faith in me to take the plunge without seeing the money in my bank account.”
“Oh, but aren’t you the evil one.”
He grinned, dripping with arrogance. “If you mean what you say, it should be a no-brainer, Venita. Am I your man, or am I not?”
“Venita! Venita!” It was Arjay, making his way toward the pool, a rather grim expression on his face. “Terribly sorry to intrude, my dear,” he said, “but you have a visitor.”
She couldn’t imagine. “Who?”
“A gentleman named Boots Conroy, a rather prodigious chap, as it happens.”
“Conroy? Never heard of him. What’s it regarding, Amal?”
“He claims to be a special emissary of Percy Gaylord.”
“Percy,” she said, letting go of Troy Hampton’s cock. She thought for a moment, realizing this meant the journalist had recovered his memory. Did that bode good or ill? she wondered. If he’d sent someone other than the police to speak for him, it could only mean his intent was to deal. Venita sighed with relief, allowing that in all probability it was a good sign. The question was, what were his terms? “Have him wait,” she said. “I’ll dress and be there shortly.” Then to Troy, “Will you excuse me, love? I have business to tend to.”
Venita went to the ladder where Jugnu stood at the edge of the pool, waiting with her robe held open. She slipped into it, then went off to see if this Mr. Conroy’s tidings would bring her grief or joy. Troy claimed to have done his part in their scheme. The question to be answered now was, had she?
Van Nuys
Jade had waited until her bladder became such unpleasant company that it was either find a toilet or drown. She tried to remember if she’d seen any fast-food places on the way in—someplace nearby. If Ginger happened to leave while she was gone, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Her mission had been largely accomplished.
She had to drive a ways, but finally found a Wendy’s. Thankfully the ladies’ room was empty. Afterward, Jade hurried back to the apartment complex. No sooner had she gotten there when a flash of red hair in the passenger seat of a car leaving the complex caught her eye. Ginger.
It wasn’t her vehicle and a guy was driving, but Jade had no doubt those red curls belonged to her mark. Jade only had a glimpse of the guy behind the wheel. The impression was darkly handsome. She followed them back to the San Diego Freeway, where they entered, southbound, headed back toward L.A. With the rush hour under way it was slow going, but she was able to keep them in sight. It wasn’t until they were off the freeway, going east on Sunset Boulevard, that she got close enough to make out the plate. At a stoplight she jotted down the number, then put in another call to Ruthie.
“What’s with you, girl? Do I have to escalate my demands to steak and lobster?”
“Anything your little heart desires. I’m on a roll, Ruthie,” Jade said gleefully.
&nb
sp; “You on somethin’ all right, honey. Oo-ee. But never mind. Call me back in a while and I’ll have a name and address.”
Jade didn’t try to reach her friend again until they were in Pacific Palisades.
“This one’s a boy,” Ruthie said. “Hernan Payro, Van Nuys, California.”
Jade read her the address of the apartment complex they’d just come from. “Is that what you’ve got?”
“That’s it, all right. My, you are on a roll.”
Jade was really pleased. She wanted very badly to have positive results when she reported back to Mac. But her work for the day was far from done, it appeared. Her little coconspirators, Ginger and Hernan, were entering the high-rent district, which could well mean they were going to see yet another amigo. And if his or her living accommodations were any indication, he or she just might be the big fish in the operation. Wouldn’t that be the mother of all coups?
Hernan left Sunset and drove up into the mansion-studded hills. The higher they got, the bigger and fancier the homes. Finally, they pulled into the gated drive of a modern place on the hilltop. Jade stopped down the street a bit, just close enough to keep an eye on the place. Yep, she was definitely on a roll.
Bel Air
Mac couldn’t understand why Jade hadn’t called. He hoped to hell she wasn’t in trouble. She’d already demonstrated a willingness to slug it out with the bad guys, and he was worried she’d gotten herself into another mess. He’d told her he would be at home, and she’d agreed to contact him as soon as she had something to report.
The phone had rung twice since he’d arrived home from the Getty. Both times it was Bev with one little crisis or another. The first thing she asked him, of course, was about the shootout reported in the paper.
“Everybody here’s trying to decide if the gunman was related to that little pool maid Art fired last week.”
“Yes, it was her brother,” Mac said. “The police confirmed it. I told them to advise Art. I hope they did. I tried calling him, but got no answer.”
“Art heard about it,” Bev said. “He’s gone underground. I talked to him this morning. He refused to say where he is.”
Mac couldn’t help a chuckle. “I guess I can’t blame him.”
